MAGYAR MYTHS AND FOLK-TALES. (continued 2)

The servant of the king’s son heard all these words clearly, for he was awake; but in the morning when he woke he thought it was all a dream, therefore he did not tell the king’s son what he had seen, but resolved that he would wait for the coming night, and if the maiden would appear again in the form of a bird, then surely it was not a dream, and he would tell the king’s son.

The next evening also his wife gave the king’s son a sleeping-powder, and he slept like a shepherd’s coat. When the clock struck twelve the little bird rapped with her beak, the window opened before her, and closed behind.

The little bird shook herself and became the beautiful Reed Maiden. She went to the bed of the sleeping king’s son, spoke to him, strove to rouse him, and cried as the evening before; but he was motionless as a block. When the clock struck one the maiden shook herself, was a bird, and flew out through the window, which closed behind her. The servant of the king’s son heard all this clearly, for he had not slept, and was now sure that it was no dream. He said to his master next morning: “I would say something to thy Highness if I were not afraid.”

“Oh, good Yanchi, thou wilt have no trouble, only speak.”

“Well, the night before last, at midnight, a little bird flew to the window, struck and beat it with her beak; the window opened before her. She flew in, shook herself, and became such a beautiful maiden that I looked on her as an altar image; and I was afraid that she would bewitch me. The beautiful maiden then bent over thy Highness, spoke to thee, but thou didst not wake; she cried a long time, but thou didst not feel her hot tears. At last she said, with a bird’s tongue: ‘Oh, king’s son, youth of my soul, thy dear lips are dumb; open them for one, two words, to cheer thy beautiful love, thy tender violet I will come yet twice, then never again.’ This was repeated last night, but thy Highness spoke not a word, and lay there like a block. And thy Highness may believe that she was so beautiful that if I had been lying dead on the table, I should have risen.”

“Is that true, Yanchi?”

“As true as that the bright sun is shining in the sky.”

“Well, Yanchi, couldst thou take a slap on the cheek for a hundred florins?”

“Not for the money, but gladly for thy Highness,—even a hundred of them.”

“If thou wilt, then take it when my wife gives me the sleeping-powder again; for her dog soul gives it so that I should not wake. Knock down the light as though from awkwardness, then I will pour the sleeping-draught quietly into the bath; the woman will think that I have drunk it.”

When bath-time came Yanchi took the candle as if he wished to snuff it, and put it out. The king’s son, meanwhile, poured the sleeping-powder and wine into the bath quietly. The gypsy queen thought that he had drunk it, but she gave such a cuff to poor Yanchi that his eyes saw stars; but Yanchi, for the sake of his master, took the cuff as if a pretty girl had kissed him.

As the clock struck twelve, the king’s son feigned sleep; but he was just as much awake as good myself. I say, the clock struck twelve. The little bird came to the window, knocked with her beak, the window opened before and closed behind her; she shook herself and became such a maiden as neither before that, nor since, was born, so that the starry heavens would have looked at her with smiles. She bent over the king’s son; when at last she cried, the king’s son put his arm around her and drew her to him, that she might not become a little bird again; that she might not fly away any more.

He assembled, next day, all the dukes and counts in the kingdom, and all the doers of good, and taking before them the hand of the world-beautiful Reed Maiden, he asked,—

“What does that person deserve who tries to separate from each other a couple?”

Because the gypsy thought that the question was in favor of her own leathery face, she called out in an instant: “That person, my royal husband, deserves to be put in a cask, with spikes driven inward from the outside all through it, and rolled from the highest mountain in the kingdom.”

“Oh, dog-given wretch, thou hast pronounced thy own sentence!”

And they took by the neck the queen, once a gypsy, and put her in a cask like that, with spikes driven in, and let the cask roll from the highest mountain in the kingdom.

Go to notes

KISS MIKLOS, AND THE GREEN DAUGHTER OF THE GREEN KING.

THERE was once a poor man, and he had three sons. When the poor man was on his death-bed, he called his three sons, and this was his word and speech to them: “My dear sons, if I do not tell, still mayhap ye know why our kingdom is in mourning, in unbroken darkness, such that a spoon might stand up in it; but if ye know not, then I will tell. My sons, this unbroken darkness is here because they have stolen the sun and the moon from our bright heavens. But I will tell one thing, and two will come of it; a wizard foretold that among my three sons was one (which one I with firm trust cannot say) who would bring back the sun and the moon. Therefore, my sons, I leave you this: that after my death ye will go out to seek the sun and the moon, and not come home till ye bring back the sources of light.”

With that the poor man turned to the wall, wandered forth from this world of shadows, and was buried with honor.

But here, my lord’s son, what comes of the affair or what does not, I saw it as I see now; I was in the place where they were talking. The report ran through the whole kingdom of what the poor man had left in his will to his three sons, so that even the king heard it, and he summoned straightway to his presence the three brothers. And when the three brothers appeared before the king, he said: “My dear young men, I hear that your father—may God give him rest—on his death-bed left this to you: that after his death ye would go out into the wide, great world to look for the sun and the moon. Therefore, my sons, this is my word and speech to you: that whoso brings back the sun and the moon will be king after my death, and whoso will assist him in everything, this one I will make viceroy. Now go to my stable and to my armory and choose for yourselves horses and swords; I will give in a sealed letter to you the order that wherever ye go men shall give you in all places, hay, oats, food, and drink free of cost.”

Here the three young men entered the king’s stable, and the two elder chose the most beautiful golden-haired steeds; but the youngest, somewhere off by the wall in a hidden corner, among cobwebs and dirt, picked out for himself a wretched, shaggy haired, plucked colt. The two elder brothers laughed at the youngest because he intended to go on that ragged, nasty colt that was hardly able to stand on its feet; but the youngest brother thought nothing of this, and did not give ear to the talk of his brothers.

Now they went to the king’s armory, where the elder brothers chose for themselves two beautiful gold-mounted swords; but the youngest brother, who had more wit, picked out a rusty steel sword. This rusty sword now jumped out of the sheath, now sprang in again,—played unceasingly. The two elder brothers laughed at the youngest again, but he put this as well as their former ridicule quietly in his pocket, thinking to himself that he laughs truly who laughs last; for the nasty colt, as surely as I live and as ye live—I was present where they were talking, I saw as I do now, and I was looking as I am now—was a magic six-legged steed, conceived of the Wind, and eating live coals; and the rusty sword had this kind of virtue that a man had only to say, “Cut, my dear sword,” and it cut down whatever he wished. But the two elder brothers knew nothing of all this, for they did not understand wood-work.

Now the three brothers moved on their way through the kingdom, to look for the sun and the moon. They travelled and journeyed over forty-nine kingdoms, beyond the Operentsia Sea, beyond the glass mountains, and beyond that, to where the little short-tailed pig roots, and farther than that, and still farther, till they came to the silver bridge. When they came to the silver bridge the youngest brother, speaking a word, said to his two brothers: “My dear brothers, let us go under the bridge, for soon the steed of the moon will be here, and the twelve-headed dragon, from whose saddle-bow the bright moon is dangling.”

Now, the two brothers had barely hidden when the steed of the moon was on the bridge, and on the steed the twelve-headed dragon, from whose saddle-bow the bright moon was dangling. The milk-white steed of the moon stumbled on the bridge. Then the twelve-headed dragon was enraged, and said this to the steed of the moon,—

“Ah, may the crow eat thy eye, may the dog eat thy flesh, may the earth drink thy blood! From forest to forest I have ridden thee, from mountain to mountain I have sprung with thee, and thou hast never stumbled, but now on the even road thou hast stumbled. Well, in my world-beautiful life I have always heard the fame of Kiss Miklos; if he were here now, I would like to have a struggle with him.”

At this word our Kiss Miklos—for let it be said, meanwhile, this was the name of the youngest brother—sprang out from beneath to the silver bridge on his golden-haired magic steed, and closed with the twelve-headed dragon. Long did they struggle, the one with the other, but Kiss Miklos said to the rusty sword: “Cut, my dear sword!” and with that it cut three heads off the dragon, and in the same order till all the twelve heads were hewn off, so that the twelve-headed dragon drew his shortest breath. Then Kiss Miklos took by the halter the milk-white haired, black-maned steed of the moon, on whose saddle-bow was dangling the bright moon, and gave him to the care of his second brother. Then they passed over the silver bridge, which sounded like most beautiful music from the golden shoes of the magic steed.

They travelled and journeyed then through forty-nine kingdoms, beyond the Operentsia Sea and the glass mountains, beyond that, where the little short-tailed pig roots, beyond that, and farther, till they came to the golden bridge.

Then Kiss Miklos spoke, and said this to his two brothers, speaking speech: “My dear brothers, let us hide under the bridge, for soon will the steed of the sun be here, and on him the twenty-four-headed dragon, from whose saddle-bow the shining sun is dangling. He will call me out at once to the keen sword, and I will measure with him strength with strength. He will not be able to conquer me, nor I him; then he and I will turn into flames. He will be a red and I a blue flame, but even then we shall not be able to conquer one the other, for we shall be of equal strength. But here is a sulphur stone; when the red flame springs highest toward the sky to press down the blue flame, that is me, strike the sulphur stone on the red flame.”

Our Kiss Miklos had barely finished his speech when the steed of the sun was on the bridge, bearing the twenty-four-headed dragon and the shining sun. The steed of the sun stumbled on the golden bridge. The twenty-four-headed dragon was enraged at him, and said,—

“Ah, may the crow eat thy eye, may the dog eat thy flesh, may the earth drink thy blood! I have ridden from forest to forest on thee, I have leaped thee from mountain to mountain, and never hast thou stumbled; but now on the even road thou hast stumbled. In my world-beautiful life I have heard always the fame of Kiss Miklos—may the dog devour him!—and if he were here now I would like to have a struggle with him.”

At this word our Kiss Miklos sprang out on to the golden bridge, and closed with the twenty-four-headed dragon. But Kiss Miklos commanded, saying: “Cut, my dear sword!” and that instant it cut the twenty-four heads off the dragon; but, wonder of the world! when all the twenty-four heads were off, in the twinkle of an eye new ones grew out which the leaping sword could not cut. In vain Kiss Miklos said: “Cut, my dear sword!” for it could not cut these heads. Well, Kiss Miklos took the sword in his hand and whirled it like lightning; but he did nothing with it, for the dragon had power of the same kind as he.

When the dragon saw that he could not succeed against Kiss Miklos, he spoke in this way: “Listen to me, Kiss Miklos! I wish thou hadst perished with thy mother, for I see that I can do nothing with thee, nor thou with me. Let us make one trial. Turn thou into a blue flame, and I will turn into a red one, and whichever can put the other out, his will be the steed of the sun and the shining sun upon him.”

That is what was done. Kiss Miklos turned to a blue flame, and the twenty-four-headed dragon to a red one. The two flames fought the one with the other, but neither was able to put out the other. Happily the two brothers threw the sulphur stone on the red flame, and then the blue flame put out the red one; and when it was quenched altogether, the twenty-four-headed dragon ceased to live.

Kiss Miklos gave the steed of the sun to his elder brother, and told his two brothers to go home quietly, for he had work of his own; and with that he took farewell of them. Miklos then shook himself, turned into a little gray cat, ran along the highroad, and all at once sprang into a cabin. In the cabin was the mother of the dragons and their two wives.

The younger dragon’s wife saw the little gray cat; she took it on her lap, stroked it, and found this to say to the mother of the dragons: “Well, if I knew that that cursed Kiss Miklos had killed my lord, I would turn into such a spring of water that if he and his two brothers were to drink not more than one drop of it, they would die a fearful death on the spot.”

With this the little gray cat sprang from the lap of the younger dragon’s wife, and rubbed up to the skirt of the wife of the elder dragon, who took it on to her lap, stroked it, and found this to say: “Ah! if I knew that that cursed Kiss Miklos had killed my lord, I would change into such a pear-tree that if he and his two brothers were to eat no more than one morsel of a pear of mine, they would die a fearful death.”

With this the little gray cat sprang from the lap of the elder dragon’s wife, and rubbed on the skirt of the old woman, who took it on her lap, fondled it, and found this to say to her two daughters-in-law: “My dear girls, just prop up my two eyes with that iron bar, which weighs twelve hundred pounds, so that I may look around.”

Her two daughters-in-law then took the twelve-hundred-pound iron bar and opened the old woman’s eyes; then she spoke thuswise: “If that cursed Kiss Miklos has killed my two sons, I will turn into a mouth, one jaw of which will be on the earth and the other I will throw to the sky, so as to catch that cursed villain and his two brothers, and grind them as mill-stones grind wheat.”

When the little gray cat had heard all this exactly, it shot away in a flash out of the cabin, sprang along, and never stopped till it came to the good magic steed. The old woman threw the twelve-hundred-pound bar after the cat, but she failed in her cast, for that moment her eyelids fell; she was not able to keep them open unless they were propped, for she was old. So Kiss Miklos escaped the twelve-hundred-pound bar,—certain death. I say that he escaped, for he came to his good magic steed, shook himself, and from a little gray cat became a young man as before. Then he sat on the good steed, which sprang once, jumped twice, and straightway Miklos was with his two brothers; then they fared homeward in quiet comfort.

The second brother grew thirsty, and found this to say: “Oh, but I am dry! My throat is burning!”

“If that is thy only trouble,” said Miklos, “I will soon bring thee water. Out there a spring is bubbling up.”

With that Kiss Miklos put spurs to his good magic steed, which sprang once, jumped twice, and was at the spring; but here, instead of filling the gourd that hung at his side, he drew his sharp sword, and thrust it three times into the bubbling water. In a moment from the spring blood gushed forth, and a word of bitter pain was heard. That was the blood of the younger dragon’s wife, and the word of pain was her death-groan. The blood made all the water red, and when the two brothers came up they had no wish to drink a drop from the spring.

Well, they travelled and journeyed till the elder brother said: “Oh, but I am hungry!”

“If that is thy trouble,” said Kiss Miklos, “we can easily cure it, for there near the dam is a pear-tree, and on it so much ripe fruit that the limbs are breaking. Wait, I will bring thee a pear directly; but lead thou the steed of the sun there.”

Here Kiss Miklos put spurs to his steed, which sprang once, jumped twice, and stood before the pear-tree. Miklos drew his sharp sword and stabbed the pear-tree in the trunk three times; from the trunk blood gushed forth, and a bitter word of pain was heard. The red blood was the blood of the elder dragon’s wife, and the bitter word of pain was her death-groan. With that the pears fell, so that when the two elder brothers reached the tree, not only would they not eat the pears, but the desire of eating had gone from them.

Now they journeyed and travelled through forty-nine kingdoms, till at last Miklos saw from a distance that an unmercifully great mouth, one jaw of which was on earth and the other thrown up to the heavens, was nearing them like the swiftest storm, so that they had barely time left to run into the door of the Lead Friend’s house. And a thousand-fold was their luck that they got in; for the unmercifully great mouth stood before the threshold of the Lead Friend, so that whoever should go out would fall into it, and be swallowed that minute.

“Hei! good Lead-Melting Friend,” said Miklos, “hast thou much molten lead? I will pay thee for it in honest coin.”

“Haho! my friend Kiss Miklos, I know thee; in my world-beautiful life I have ever heard thy fame. Long have I been waiting for thee. It is well that thou art here,—that thou hast entered my door,—for thou wilt never go a step farther from me.”

“Oh! for God’s sake,” said Kiss Miklos, “do not pass thy own threshold, for straightway the mother of the dragons will swallow thee with her great mouth.”

The Lead-Melting Friend went out of his chamber, saw the great mouth of the mother of the dragons, and went back in terror to his chamber, where he said this to Kiss Miklos: “Oh, my good friend Kiss Miklos, give counsel. What are we to do?”

“Hast thou much molten lead?”

“Not much, only eighteen tons; it is out there in the caldron boiling.”

“Knowest thou what? I will say one thing and two will come of it. Let us take the handles of that great caldron and pour its contents into the great mouth of the mother of the dragons.”

Here, ’pon my soul! the Lead-Melting Friend put one handle on his shoulder, Kiss Miklos the other on his, brought the unmercifully great caldron to the threshold, and poured the eighteen tons of boiling lead into the old witch’s mouth. The boiling lead burned up the stomach of the mother of the dragons, and straightway she breathed out her cursed soul.

So Kiss Miklos was freed from the mother of the dragons; but, poor fellow, he was like one that goes from the pail into the barrel, for the Lead-Melting Friend caught his Grace by the neck and took him, as he would a straw, to the chamber, where he found this to say,—

“Look here, my good friend Kiss Miklos, in my world-beautiful life I have ever heard thy fame; therefore let us struggle now and see who is stronger, thou or I.” With that the Lead Friend put only his little finger on Kiss Miklos; from that he began to sink, and went down through the lead floor of the chamber the distance of an ell.

“Kiss Miklos, my friend, dost thou wish to fight with me?” asked the Lead Friend. “Thou sayest nothing, so I see that thou dost not; therefore this is my word and speech: I will keep thee in endless slavery unless thou bring me the Green Daughter of the Green King. But ye,” and he turned to the two brothers, “ye may go home in gentle quietness, and take with you the steeds of the moon and the sun, on which are the bright moon and the shining sun, for of them I have no need.”

Here our Miklos, in the midst of bitter tear-shedding, took farewell of his dear brothers. They held on their way homeward, and arrived there in health. Great was the rejoicing in the kingdom that the poor man’s sons, as their father had bequeathed them on his death-bed, brought home the bright moon and the shining sun. Therefore the king assembled all that were in his dominions of dukes, counts, barons, lords, lord’s sons, chosen gypsies, and broad-brimmed, country-dressed Slovaks; of these he sought council and asked, “What do brothers deserve who have brought home the bright moon and the shining sun?”

To this question then they answered, “Our high lord, the one who has brought back the steed of the sun, and on it the bright shining sun, deserves to be king of the country, and he who has brought home the steed of the bright moon, and on it the fair moon, to be viceroy; and each one of them should receive as wife a daughter of thy Highness.”

So it was done. The poor man’s eldest son became king, and the second son viceroy; and each one of them got a maiden princess as wife. Then they let out the steed of the bright moon and the steed of the shining sun on the highway of the heavens, but both the moon and the sun shone sadly. For this reason they shone sadly: that he was without merited reward who had really freed them from the dragons, for Kiss Miklos was now in never-ending slavery to the Lead Friend.

Once the Lead Friend called Miklos and found this to tell him: “Well, Miklos, if thou wilt bring me the Green Daughter of the Green King, I will let thee go free, and I will strike from thee the three-hundred-pound ring and the twelve-hundred-pound chain. Therefore, good friend Miklos, I advise thee to start in the morning with the bright shining sun, and bring to me my heart’s desire.”

Now our Miklos moved on the road again, and a long one too; whether there will be an end to it, only the good God knows. And as he travelled and journeyed across forty-nine kingdoms, and beyond that, and still farther, at the foot of a great mountain was a little hill, and as a shot arrow, as the swiftest whirlwind, ran towards him a man who was always crying, “Out of my way! out of my way!” This was Swift Runner, who stood still in a moment, like a pillar, before Miklos, and asked, “Whither, whither, Kiss Miklos? for in my world-beautiful life I have ever heard thy fame.”

“Haho! Swift Runner, better thou hadst not asked. I am going for the Green Daughter of the Green King. Hast thou ever heard of her?”

“I have not heard. I speak not of that, but of this: take me with thee, for thou wilt get good of me somewhere.”

“Well, come on thy own legs, if it please thee.”

They travelled and journeyed after that, two of them, till they came to the sea-shore, and saw a man who was drinking the sea to the last drop, just as I would drink a cup of water; and then he cried out unceasingly: “Oh, I’m thirsty! Oh, I’m thirsty!” This was Great Drinker who, when he saw Miklos, went to him and said: “God’s good-day, famous Kiss Miklos; for in my world-beautiful life I have ever heard thy fame.”

“God keep thee, Great Drinker!”

“On what journey art thou, renowned Kiss Miklos?”

“On what journey? Haho! better thou hadst not asked. I am going for the Green Daughter of the Green King. Hast thou heard of her?”

“I have not, in truth,” answered Great Drinker; “I speak not of that, but of this: take me with thee, for mayhap thou’lt get good of me.”

“Well, come on thy own legs, if it please thee.”

So there were three of them, and they travelled and journeyed after that till they saw a man running on the plain towards cattle, and he thrust the beautiful bullocks one by one into his mouth as I would a piece of bread, and swallowed them, hide and horns, one after the other; and even when he had swallowed all the standing herd of three hundred and sixty-six bullocks, he called out unceasingly: “Oh, I am hungry! Oh, I am hungry!” This was Great Eater who, when he saw Miklos, went to him and said: “God give thee a good-day, renowned Kiss Miklos; for in my world-beautiful life I have ever heard thy fame.”

“God keep thee, Great Eater!”

“What journey art thou on, renowned Kiss Miklos?”

“Better thou hadst not asked. I am going for the Green Daughter of the Green King. Hast thou heard of her?”

“I have not heard, in truth,” answered Great Eater; “but take me with thee, mayhap thou’lt get good of me.”

“Well, come on thy own legs, if it please thee.”

Now there were four of them, and they travelled and journeyed till one day they struck upon a man whose bolster was the glowing coals, whose pillow was the burning fire, and whose blanket was the flaming blaze; he had nine pairs of boots on his feet, nine pairs of drawers and nine shirts on his body, nine neckcloths on his neck, nine sheepskin caps on his head, nine pairs of trousers, nine vests on his body, and nine sheepskin overcoats hung from his shoulders, but even then he did nothing but cry out unceasingly: “Oh, I’m freezing! Oh, I’m freezing!” When he saw Kiss Miklos, he stood before him and said: “God give thee a good-day, renowned Kiss Miklos; for in my world-beautiful life I have ever heard thy fame.”

“God guard thee, Great Freezer!”

“What journey art thou on, renowned Kiss Miklos?”

“Ah, comrade, thou shouldst not have asked. Hast thou heard of the fame of the Green Daughter of the Green King?”

“I have not heard of it.”

“Well, if thou hast not, hear now; for I am going to her as a wooer.”

“Take me with thee, mayhap thou wilt get good of me.”

“Well, come on thy own legs, if it please thee.”

There were five of them now. They journeyed and travelled after that till they came upon a man who was looking around unceasingly. In one twinkle, in the turn of an eye, he saw the round earth, and in another turn of the eye he looked through the deep sea; and he saw Miklos and his comrades thirty-five miles off.

This was Far Seer, who stood before Miklos and said: “God give thee a good-day, renowned Kiss Miklos.”

“God keep thee, Far Seer!”

“On what journey art thou, renowned Kiss Miklos?”

“Haho! good friend Far Seer, perhaps thou hast heard of the Green Daughter of the Green King.”

“I have not.”

“Well then, hear now, for I am going to woo her.”

“Take me with thee, mayhap thou’lt get good of me.”

Now there were six of them, and they journeyed and travelled after that, across forty-nine kingdoms and farther, till they came upon a man who threw a seven-hundred-pound iron club thirty-five miles as easily as I could throw a small stone a few yards. This was Far Caster, who, when he saw Kiss Miklos and his comrades, came and said: “God give thee a good-day, renowned Kiss Miklos; for in my world-beautiful life I have ever heard thy fame.”

“God guard thee, Far Caster!”

“What journey art thou on?”

“Better thou hadst not asked. Hast thou heard of the Green King?”

“I have not.”

“Well, I am going to woo his daughter.”

“Take me with thee, mayhap thou’lt get good of me.”

“Come on thy own legs, if it please thee.”

Like the seven deadly sins, they were seven now. They journeyed and travelled till they came to the castle of the Green King. Kiss Miklos stood before the king and said: “God give a good-day to thy Highness.”

“God keep thee, renowned Kiss Miklos; for in my world-beautiful life I have ever heard thy fame. What journey art thou on?”

“In my journeys and travels I have heard that thy Highness has a charming, love-pervaded, beautiful flower-stalk. What is the use in delay and denial? I have come for her.”

“Haho! my good friend, the Green Daughter of the Green King is not so easily taken, for there are three tests before thee; if thou stand these tests, I will give thee my most beloved, my truly one and only daughter. The first test will be this: Thou hast a swift runner and so have I. They are making for my daughter at present a wedding dress at Pluto’s, or perhaps it’s ready this moment. If thy swift runner will bring that dress here, all right,—I care not: let the Green Daughter of the Green King be thine. My swift runner and thine will start to-morrow about four o’clock in the morning. But if I have not told thee, know now the thick end of the business, I will bring you all to the stake, if thy swift runner comes second.”

But the Green King deceived; for that evening after sunset he sent off his swift runner, who was no other than his own old mother, who, let it be said meanwhile, was a witch, and a big one at that. Next morning at four o’clock, as had been agreed, Miklos started his own swift runner on the road so as to bring the wedding dress.

Swift Runner moved on, and he saw that the old mother of the Green King was a good way ahead, for she was just on the point of going in at Pluto’s gate. Nothing more was needed. He rushed at her and she saw trouble soon, for he came up just as she had taken hold of the key; Swift Runner was not slow. He caught her by the jacket, hurled her back, ran in at the gate himself, and did not stop till he stood before his Highness, Pluto, told why he had come, and asked for the wedding dress. The dainty dress was nicely packed already in a box, and they gave it to him. Swift Runner hurried homeward, but the old mother of the Green King waited for him, and said: “Hear me, Swift Runner! Now thou art the victor, run not so fast; let us go home in pleasant quiet together.”

Swift Runner stopped at the old woman’s words, and they went on together,—went on till they came to a nice shady place, where the old woman found this to say: “Let us sit down in this shady place; let us rest. It is all the same. Thou art the winner. I will look in thy head.”

Here Swift Runner sat down in the shady place; the old woman bent his head to her lap and began to search in it, and she searched and searched till Swift Runner fell asleep and was sunk in slumber. When Swift Runner was snoring away at his best, the old woman put a horse-skull under his head,—from that he would not have waked till the day of judgment; then she took the box from him and raced off as if she had been shot from a gun.

It was near four o’clock in the afternoon and Swift Runner had not come yet, though he said he ought to be there at three o’clock. Miklos therefore began to be uneasy,—his nose was itching, it was ringing in his right ear and jumping in his right eye, therefore he found this to say to his Far Seer: “Just look, canst thou see Swift Runner coming?”

Far Seer did not let this be repeated; in an instant he ran up on a hill, looked around, saw that Swift Runner was in a shady place, sleeping like a pumpkin, under a tree, with a horse-skull under his head.

“Oh, my good friend Kiss Miklos, the dog is in the garden! Swift Runner is sleeping in a nice shady place with a horse-skull under his head; the old woman is right here near the garden, and she has the wedding dress in a box.”

“Here, good friend Far Caster,” said Kiss Miklos, “stand forth and throw thy twelve-hundred-pound club at that cursed horse-skull under the head of Swift Runner; for as God is true, all seven of us will see shame, and die a fearful death.”

Far Caster was not slow; in an instant he hurled the twelve-hundred-pound club and struck out luckily the horse-skull from under Swift Runner’s head.

Then, ’pon my soul! Swift Runner sprang up, rubbed his eyes, looked around, saw that the old woman was running near the garden, and bearing the wedding robe. He was not slow. He rushed at her, but in truth it hung from a hair that he did not see disgrace, for the old woman had just taken the key of the Green King’s door when Swift Runner reached her. He caught her by the jacket, took the box, and hurled the old woman back to Pluto’s in such fashion that not her foot, nor even her little toe, touched ground on the way. Then he gave the wedding dress to Miklos, who took it that moment to the Green King, and putting it on the boxwood table said: “High lord, thy desire is accomplished; here is the dainty wedding dress.”

“Haho! renowned Kiss Miklos, this is but one trial in which thou art the winner, there are two behind. The Green Daughter of the Green King will not be thine till all of you, as many as there are, spend one night in my iron furnace, which I have heated with three hundred and sixty-six cords of wood; if ye can endure that terrible heat, all right; if not, ye will be roasted alive.”

Here, ’pon my soul! what came of the affair or what did not, the Green King, as he had said, heated the iron furnace with three hundred and sixty-six cords of wood. The whole furnace was nothing but glowing fire, so that it was impossible to go near it. Now the question was, who should enter first,—who but Great Freezer? He was delighted with the pleasant amusement; he was shivering terribly because God’s cold had then caught him, though he had nine pairs of boots on his feet, nine shirts and drawers on his body, nine neckcloths on his neck, nine sheepskin caps on his head, nine sheepskin overcoats on his back. I say, Great Freezer went first into the fiery furnace. He walked around in it, and straightway it became as cold as an ice-house; therefore he called out at the entrance: “Oh, I’m freezing! Oh, I’m freezing!” Then the others and Kiss Miklos went in, and they felt that the furnace was as cold as an ice-house, so that their teeth chattered. Kiss Miklos cried out at the entrance, saying, “Wood this way, or we shall freeze!”

The servants of the Green King threw an extra cord of wood into the furnace. With this Miklos and his companions made a fire, and gave earth no trouble. Next morning the Green King himself went to see the seven roasts, thinking they were burnt into dust. He opened the mouth of the furnace. He will fall on his back with horror, perhaps. Nothing of the sort; the seven good birds were sitting there alive in the furnace at the side of a fire, and not a dog’s trouble had happened to a man of them.

Straightway the Green King called up Kiss Miklos and said to him: “Well, renowned Kiss Miklos, thou hast stood two trials, but the third still remains. If ye pass that unharmed, then I don’t care; my daughter will be thine, for I shall see that thou art not inferior to thy fame. The third trial is not other than this: In the yard is a herd of cattle not less than three hundred and sixty-six in number, and also there are three hundred and sixty-six kegs of wine, and if ye do not eat the three hundred and sixty-six head of cattle and drink the three hundred and sixty-six kegs of wine by to-morrow, then I will have you all at the stake; but if ye eat and drink all, then as I say, I care not. Let my one and only most beloved daughter be thine.”

In the evening after bedtime Miklos went with his comrades to the other yard where were the three hundred and sixty-six head of cattle and the three hundred and sixty-six kegs of wine; but now the question was who should eat that ocean-great lot of cattle and drink that thundering lot of wine. No one would take more delight in the cattle than Great Eater, and with the thundering lot of wine no one felt better than Great Drinker; they would take care of them if they were twice as great. Miklos and his comrades, except Great Eater, knocked one of the bullocks on the head, pulled off his jacket, cut up his flesh and roasted it. That was enough for them, but it was not enough for Great Eater; for he would not spoil the taste of his mouth with it. He ate that herd of beasts, one after another, as if the earth had swallowed them,—ate hair, hide, bones, and horns, so that he didn’t leave a single thing as a novelty; and even then he cried out nothing but, “Oh, I’m hungry! Oh, I’m hungry!” Then he went to his comrades, ate what they had left of the roast, and pressed it down with the ox-hide for a dessert. Even then he cried without ceasing, “Oh, I’m hungry! Oh, I’m hungry!”

Then they began at the wine. Miklos and his comrades, except Great Drinker, rolled forth one keg of wine, knocked the bottom out, and went to drinking. That keg was enough for them, but not enough for Great Drinker; for him it was as much as one drop would be for me. He would not spoil the taste of his mouth with it, but fell to drinking from the rest in such Magyar-Mishka style that when he looked around he saw that the three hundred and sixty-five kegs were empty. Then he cried unceasingly, “Oh, I’m thirsty! Oh, I’m thirsty!” After that he came to his comrades, and what they had left he drank to the last drop; and cried: “Oh, I’m thirsty! Oh, I’m thirsty!”

Next morning the Green King went himself to the yard to see if Kiss Miklos and his comrades had endured the third trial,—had they eaten the cattle and drunk the wine. It is a wonder that he didn’t turn into a pillar of salt he was so frightened when he saw that there was not a horned beast left, nor a drop of wine. Then he complained: “They have eaten three hundred and sixty-six bullocks. Plague take it! let them eat the cattle, but they might have left the hides; those could at least have been sold to a Jew for good money.—Well, renowned Kiss Miklos, thou hast stood the three tests, now my only and most dearly beloved daughter is thine; take her.” With that the Green King seated his Green Daughter in a coach drawn by six black horses, and they drove towards the dominions of the Lead Friend.

On the road the Green Daughter of the Green King beckoned Miklos to her and asked him: “Hei! my heart’s beautiful love, renowned Kiss Miklos, tell me, on thy true soul, art thou taking me for thyself or for another? If thou art not taking me for thyself, I will play tricks with thee.”

“I am taking thee for myself; I am taking thee for another,” answered Kiss Miklos.

Well, no more was said. Once, when turning and winding, they look in the coach; it is empty. The beautiful girl is gone. In a moment they stop, search the coach, but find her nowhere.

“Here, good friend Far Seer,” said Kiss Miklos, “look around! Whither has our beautiful bird flown?”

Far Seer didn’t let that be said twice. In the turn of an eye he surveyed the round earth, but he saw not the beautiful maiden.

“She is not on the dry earth,” said Far Seer.

“Look into the sea,” said Kiss Miklos.

Far Seer surveyed the deep sea, and saw her hidden in the belly of a three-pound whale, near the opposite shore of the sea.

“Ah, I see where she is!”

“Where?” asked Miklos.

“Hidden in the belly of a three-pound whale.”

“Here, good friend Great Drinker,” said Miklos, “come hither, and drink up the water of this deep sea!”

Great Drinker was not slow. He lay face under by the sea, and with three draughts drank up all the water. The three-pound whale was lying then in a bay near the opposite shore.

“Now, good brother Swift Runner,” said Kiss Miklos, “step out and bring me that three-pound whale which is lying near the opposite shore.”

Swift Runner rushed in a moment across the bottom of the sea, and brought back the three-pound whale. Miklos opened the whale, took out its stomach, cut it carefully, and out fell the Green Daughter of the Green King. Then he seated her in the coach, and they drove on.

They travelled and journeyed, and once the princess beckoned to Miklos, and asked: “My heart’s beautiful love, renowned Kiss Miklos, tell me, on thy true soul, art thou taking me for thyself, or for another? If for thyself, very well; if not, I’ll play tricks with thee.”

“I am taking thee for myself; I am taking thee for another,” answered Miklos.

No more was said. Once while turning and winding, the beautiful maiden is gone, the coach is empty. “Oh, the dog is in the garden!” They stop, search the six-horse coach, but find no beautiful princess.

“Here, good friend Far Seer,” said Miklos, “stand forth, look around! Where is our beautiful bird?”

Far Seer surveyed the deep sea, but got no sight of the princess. “She is not in the sea.”

“If she is not in the sea, look on dry land.”

Far Seer looked around again, and he saw that the princess was at home, in the very middle of her father’s garden, on the highest top of a blooming apple-tree, hidden in a ripe red apple. “I have found her!” said Far Seer.

“Where is she?”

“At home, in the very centre of the garden, hidden on the highest top of an apple-tree, in the middle of a ripe red apple.”

“Here, Swift Runner, come forth!”

Swift Runner came forth, and stood like a pillar before Miklos, waiting for command.

“Run in a twinkle to the garden of the Green King, in the very middle of which is blooming an apple-tree; climb the tree, and bring me the ripe red apple which is on its highest top.”

Swift Runner rushed as a whirlwind, at horse-death speed, found the tree, climbed it, plucked the red apple, and then, as if shot from a cannon, came back to Miklos, and gave him the apple. Miklos cut the apple in two; the Green Daughter of the Green King fell out. He seated her again in the coach, and they fared farther.

They travelled and journeyed, and again the princess beckoned to Miklos, and said: “My heart’s heart, renowned Kiss Miklos, tell me, on thy true soul, art thou taking me for thyself, or for another? If for thyself, very well; if not, I’ll play tricks with thee.”

“I am taking thee for myself; I am taking thee for another.”

Well, they said no more. Once, while turning and winding, they look in the coach the maiden is gone; the coach is empty. “Oh, the dog is in the garden!” They stop, search the six-horse coach, but find not the maiden.

“Friend Far Seer,” said Miklos, “look around! Where is our beautiful bird?”

Far Seer was not slow; in the turn of an eye he surveyed the round earth, but saw nowhere the Green Daughter of the Green King. “She is not on the round earth,” said he.

“Well, look in the deep sea.”

Far Seer looked again; in the turn of an eye he surveyed the deep sea, but saw not the princess. “She is not in the deep sea,” said Far Seer.

“Well, if she is not in the deep sea, look in the cloudy heavens.”

Far Seer looked around; in the turn of an eye he surveyed the broad sky and the cloudy heavens. He saw a cocoon hanging from a thread slender as a spider-web, and hidden in that cocoon the Green Daughter of the Green King. “I have found her!” said Far Seer.

“Where is she?” asked Kiss Miklos.

“Far, far away, near the round forest, from the cloudy heavens is hanging a silk thread, slender as a spider-web, and on the end dangles a cocoon; in that she is hidden.”

“Now, Far Caster, come forth!” said Miklos.

Far Caster stood like a pillar before Kiss Miklos, only waiting for command; but he had not long to wait, for Miklos said: “Listen, good friend Far Caster. Seest thou that thin silk thread hanging from the cloudy sky near the round forest?”

“I see.”

“Then cast it down; but only when Swift Runner reaches the place beneath, so that it may not fall on the earth, but into his hand. Therefore, Swift Runner, move thy wheels that way; catch the cocoon and bring it to us.”

Swift Runner rushed at horse-death speed to the place; Far Caster brought down the cocoon. Swift Runner caught it safely, and brought it to Miklos, who with his bright knife cut it open, and out came the princess. Then he seated her a third time in the coach; but they had arrived in the domains of the Lead Friend, so the Green Daughter of the Green King, having lost her power, could play no more tricks.

Kiss Miklos took farewell of his good friends, thanking them kindly for their aid. When they were alone the Green Daughter of the Green King fell to crying, and said: “My heart’s beautiful love, I know thou art taking me to that dog of a Lead Friend, and I would rather be the bride of death than of him.”

“Oh, my heart’s golden bird,” said Miklos, “I am taking thee for myself; but thou canst not be mine till I know where the strength of the Lead Friend lies. If we can discover that, it will be easy to destroy him.”

“If that is thy grief, my heart’s heart,” said she, “I will soon help thee; leave that to me. Thou must know I am a woman.”

With that Miklos and the princess kissed each other, and there was holy peace; they said: “I am thine, thou art mine.”

They travelled and journeyed across forty-nine kingdoms, till Kiss Miklos could say, “We are at home,”—for they were at the Lead Friend’s mansion,—and could say to the princess, “Come out of thy coach; it won’t cost thee a copper.” Here the Lead Friend ran panting out of his mansion to the beautiful princess, but she turned from him. This pleased not the Lead Friend, and though one word is not much, he uttered not that much, but brought her into the lead mansion in silence.

Next day at sunrise the Lead Friend had to go to his furnace, taking Kiss Miklos with him. The young woman remained all alone. She took a lamp and started to search through the lead house. From chamber to chamber she went till she came to the cellar, but that was closed against her with seven iron doors. Now the question was to get into the cellar. Another would not have been able to pass the first door, but every iron door opened of itself before the magic of the Green Daughter of the Green King. She passed through the seven doors and entered the cellar. She saw there seven leaden vats placed in a row, and every one of them filled to the brim with gold and silver. She took off her apron and filled it with gold, went up, summoned the goldsmith, and gilded the lead threshold a hand in thickness. The Lead Friend was such a miser that he had not bread enough to eat, and every little coin he turned seven times between his teeth before he let it go once from his hand.

Well, in the evening the Lead Friend came home from his furnace, saw the housekeeping and what the young woman had done. Then, ’pon my soul! he plucked out his own lead beard and hair, trampled them like tow, and roared till the lead house was trembling.

“Who, in the name of a hundred thousand thunders, did this?” asked the Lead Friend.

“I did it,” answered quite bravely the princess.

“How didst thou dare to do it without my knowledge,—without informing me?” With that the Lead Friend went to the Green Daughter of the Green King, and seized in his hand the golden hair which reached her heels. Twelve times did he drag her on the lead floor, and he wanted to take the lead flail to her. Kiss Miklos did not permit that, but took the maiden from his grasp and placed her on the silken bed. She was neither dead nor alive, but lay as a lifeless block of wood. But the Green Daughter of the Green King had no more pain than good myself; being a magic woman, seest thou, she had much in her power.

Now, what did she do? When the Lead Friend wound around his hand the golden hair reaching to her heels, she suddenly sprang out of her skin, and a devil jumped into it. And if the Lead Friend had struck him with the back of an axe, he would not have felt a dog’s trouble; for the more he was beaten the more he would have laughed.

But the Lead Friend was troubled; ragged, with torn hair, crying and weeping he entered the white chamber, where the princess was lying without life. He went to her; pushed her, but she waked not; talked to her, but she heard not; cried, but she listened not. At last he found this to say: “Wake, my heart’s beautiful love; I will do all that may please thee, but stop the gilding.”

Then the princess spoke up to the Lead Friend, “I’ll stop the gilding, but tell where thy strength lies.”

“Oh, my heart’s beautiful love, I would rather part with life than tell that.”

Well, things remained thus. Next day at sunrise the Lead Friend went to his furnace, taking Kiss Miklos with him, for he lived in the suspicion that Miklos and the Green Daughter of the Green King would plot together and strive for his destruction.

The bride remained alone; she took the lamp and turned straight to the cellar. The great iron doors opened before her and closed behind. When she had passed the seven iron doors and entered the cellar, she spread her silk apron, and filled it with gold. Three times she returned, and three times she bore away the same amount, so that the apron was almost torn under it. Straightway she called the goldsmith and had the lead thresholds of three chambers gilded to the thickness of a hand. And as I say, the Lead Friend was so stingy that he did not eat bread enough, and every little coin he put seven[7] times between his teeth before he let it out of his hand once.

The Lead Friend came home from his furnace towards evening, and saw the housekeeping, and saw also that now not one but three thresholds were gilded a hand’s thickness. Here, ’pon my soul! the Lead Friend fell into such rage that he tore his own lead beard and hair out, and trampled them as he would tow. Then he roared so terribly that the lead house quivered, and turning to the princess he asked: “In the name of a hundred thousand devils, who did this?”

“I did it,” answered the princess quite bravely.

“How didst thou dare to do this without my knowledge and consent?”

With that the Lead Friend seized the golden hair of the princess, which reached to her heels, and dragged her twelve times up and down the lead floor, twelve times did he hurl her against the floor, then he ran for the lead flail to kill her. Kiss Miklos would not let him do that, but seized the maiden from his hands, and placed her on the silken bed. The Green Daughter of the Green King was neither dead nor alive; she lay there still as a soulless block of wood. Still the princess felt no more pain than good myself. She knew witchcraft, and whatever she did or did not do, when the Lead Friend twisted her golden hair in his hand, she jumped out of her skin in a twinkle, and a devil got into it; if they had beaten him like a two-headed drum, or even more, he would have taken it as if they were fondling him.

Now the Lead Friend was terribly sorry; ragged, with torn hair, he entered the white chamber weeping; he wept a long time; pushed the princess, who waked not; spoke to her, she heard not; at last he found this to say: “Wake up, my heart’s beautiful love; all thy desires will be accomplished, only stop the gilding.”

“I’ll stop the gilding, but tell where thy strength lies.”

“Oh, my heart’s beautiful love, I would rather part with my life than tell that.”

Next day at sunrise the Lead Friend took Kiss Miklos to the furnace, lest while he was gone himself Miklos might go in secret and gather another man’s hay. The bride was alone again, and wanted nothing better. Again she took the lamp and went straight to the cellar, where she opened her beautiful silk apron and filled it with gold,—took so much that the apron almost tore under it. She came seven times, and each time carried so much gold that her nose almost cut the earth, like the coulter of a plough. Then she called a goldsmith, and gilded to a hand’s thickness the thresholds of seven rooms.

When the Lead Friend came home in the evening, he saw that not three but seven thresholds had a hand’s thickness of gold on them. Then he fell into such a rage that he tore his leaden beard and hair, and trampled them as he would tow; but what good did that do him?—for he was trampling his own. Then he roared till the lead house rattled, and in his fury he asked: “A thousand million demons, who did this?”

“I did it,” answered the princess all bravely.

“How didst thou dare to do this without my knowledge or command?”

With that he went in fury to the Green Daughter of the Green King, wound round his hand the golden hair which reached to her heels. Twelve times did he drag her over the leaden floor, twelve times did he dash her against it, twelve times did he raise her aloft,—and that was not enough; but he took out the lead flail, and began to thrash and beat the princess as if she were a bundle of wheat, so that she was swimming in blood. Kiss Miklos took her from his hands and placed her on the silken bed, where she lay, neither dead nor alive, still as a lifeless block.

Now the Lead Friend grew terribly sorry, and making himself squalid looking, he entered the white chamber, rushed to the princess, wept without ceasing, touched her but she woke not, spoke to her but she heard him not. At last he found this to say: “Wake up, my heart’s beautiful love. I will tell where my strength lies. In the silken meadow under the seventh bush is a hare, under the tail of the hare an egg, in the egg a hornet, and in the hornet is hidden my strength, so that I live as long as the hornet lives; if the hornet dies, I die too.”

The Green Daughter of the Green King heard all these words clearly, but acted as if she were neither dead nor alive,—lay there like a soulless block.

Well, ’pon my soul! what came of the affair or what did not, the princess rose from her silken bed in the night-time, quietly, in one garment; but she threw a great shawl around her neck, slipped out of the gate, found Kiss Miklos, to whom her word and speech was this: “Wake up, my heart’s beautiful love, renowned Kiss Miklos, I know now where the strength of the Lead Friend lies; but listen to my word. In the silken meadow under the seventh bush lies a hare, under the hare’s tail is an egg, in the egg a hornet, in the hornet is the Lead Friend’s strength. If thou kill the hornet, the Lead Friend will lose his strength.”

Our Miklos wanted nought else. He turned himself at once into a hound, drove the hare from the seventh bush of the silken meadow. The hare began to run, but the hound was not slow; with a long stick he struck the egg from the hare’s tail. The egg broke and the hornet flew out, but the hound was not slow; with a great jump he caught the hornet, and crushed it to bits in his teeth. Then the hound shook himself and turned into Kiss Miklos again.

At daylight the Lead Friend was sick. He had lost his strength, he could not move his hands or his feet, and lay groaning on his lead couch like a man who had been pressing a straw-bed for seven years; and when the sun rose he breathed out his cursed soul.

Who was more delighted at his death than our Kiss Miklos and the Green Daughter of the Green King? Straightway they called a priest and a hangman and an iron cap. The priest joined them, the hangman thrashed around, God’s arrow flashed, but no one was struck. There was soup plenty and to spare, lucky was the man who came with a spoon; the unhappy were happy; the gypsy fiddled, and the music spoke. When the feasting and the poppy week had passed, Kiss Miklos and his consort took a chariot of glass and gold, drawn by six black-haired steeds, and set out for Miklos’s birthplace. Now, the shining sun had shone so sadly, and the bright moon had beamed so sadly that it could not be more so; but the moment they beheld Miklos and his wife in the chariot of glass and gold, the bright sun shone joyously, and so did the clear moon.

“What’s this? what’s this?” said to himself the old king, who still rejoiced in good health. He summoned the wise men and the skilled scribes of the kingdom to his palace and gave them the following question: “Explain to me this. It is seven years since the two sons of the poor man brought back the bright moon and the shining sun; these two sons are now ruling kings,—may God keep them in health!—but the clear moon and the shining sun gave us such sorrowful light, and now all at once both are radiant.”

One old man skilled in letters, and so old that his white beard almost came to the earth, and he could not stand on his feet alone, but three men supported him, spoke the following words: “Haho! high lord, there is great reason for this. The clear moon and the shining sun were sad because the man who really freed them from the claws of the dragons was pinioned in bondage; and he is no other than the renowned Kiss Miklos, the poor man’s youngest son, who even at this moment is driving to the king’s palace with the Green Daughter of the Green King, in a chariot drawn by six horses.”

That moment Kiss Miklos and his wife entered the white chamber together. Here the lords and those great wise men all rose before them, as did even the old king himself, who advancing embraced and kissed them, led them to his own purple velvet throne, seated them thereon, and turning to the wise men and the skilled scribes, asked them, “Who really deserves the kingdom, the elder brothers or Kiss Miklos?”

The council said: “Kiss Miklos.”

Then Miklos rose and said to the old king and the council: “High king and worthy council, it is true that I deserve the kingdom, and I would take it were I not the heir of the far-famed Lead Friend, and were it not that the dominions of the Green King, after his death,—which from my heart I wish not,—will come to me. This being the case the worthy council can see, and thy Highness can see also, that I may not accept the kingdom. Let it remain as it is,—let my eldest brother be king, and my second brother be viceroy; they are, I think, honorable men, and worthy.”

The lords, sages, and skilled scribes present, as well as the old king, rose up and confirmed the wise speech of the youthful Kiss Miklos.

Then the two brothers of Kiss Miklos—the king and the viceroy—entered; they embraced and kissed one another, and sacred was the peace. After that, Kiss Miklos and his wife returned to the domains of the Lead Friend, and after the death of the Green King, Kiss Miklos inherited his dominions. And so he ruled two kingdoms very happily; and he and the Green Daughter of the Green King are living yet, if they are not dead.

Go to notes

THE HEDGEHOG, THE MERCHANT, THE KING, AND THE POOR MAN.

WHERE there was, where there was not, it is enough that there was once a merchant, there were also a king, and a poor man.

One day the merchant went out to hunt, and he travelled and journeyed till, oh! my lord’s son, he found himself in such a thick forest that he saw neither the sky nor the earth; he just groped around like a blindman. Here, ’pon my soul! whether the merchant tried to free himself by turning to the left or the right, he only went into a thicker place. When he was there five days, in hunger and thirst, stumbling about in the great wild wood without liberation, the merchant called out:—

“Oh, my God, if any one would take me out of this great wild thicket to the right road, I would give him the best of my three daughters, and as a wedding gift three sacks of coin.”

“I’ll lead thee out right away,” said some one before him.

The merchant looked to the right, to the left, but not a soul did he see.

“Don’t look around,” said the certain one again, “look under thy feet.”

The merchant then looked in front and saw that near his feet was a little hedgehog, and to him he directed then his word and speech. “Well, if thou wilt lead me out, I will give thee my best daughter and three sacks of coin; the first will be gold, the second silver, and the third copper.”

The hedgehog went on ahead, the merchant walked after. Soon they came out of the great wild wood. Then the hedgehog went back, and the merchant turned his wagon-tongue homeward.

Now the king went to hunt,—went in the same way as the merchant; and he too was lost in the great wild wood. The king went to the right and the left, tried in every way to free himself; all he gained was that he came to a thicker and a darker place. He too stumbled around five days in the thick wood, without food or drink. On the sixth morning the king cried out: “Oh, my God! if any one would free me from this dense wood, even if a worm, I would give him the most beautiful of my daughters, and as a wedding gift three coaches full of coin.”

“I’ll lead thee out right away,” said some one near him.

The king looked to the right, to the left, but saw not a soul.

“Why stare around? Look at thy feet; here I am.”

The king then looked at his feet and saw a little hedgehog stretched out, and said to him: “Well, hedgehog, if thou wilt lead me forth, I’ll give thee the fairest of my daughters and three coaches full of coin,—the first gold, the second silver, the third copper.”

The hedgehog went ahead, the king followed, and in this way they soon came out of the great wild wood. The hedgehog went back to his own place; the king reached home in safety.

Very well, a poor man went out for dry branches. He went like the merchant and king, and he got astray, so that he wandered dry and hungry for five days in the great wild wood; and whether he turned to the right or the left he gained only this, that he went deeper into the denseness.

“My God,” cried the poor man at last, “send me a liberator! If he would lead me out of this place, as I have neither gold nor silver, I would take him as a son, and care for him as my own child.”

“Well, my lord father, I’ll lead thee out; only follow.”

“Where art thou, dear son?”

“Here, under thy feet; only look this way, my lord father.”

The poor man looked near his feet, and saw a little hedgehog stretched out.

“Well, my dear son, lead me out and I’ll keep my promise.”

The hedgehog went ahead, the poor man followed, and soon they came out of the great wild wood. The hedgehog then went back to his own place, and the poor man strolled home.

Well, things remained thus till once after bedtime there was a knocking at the poor man’s door. “My lord father, rise up, open the door.” The poor man, who was lying on the stove, heard only that some one was knocking at the door.

“My lord father, rise up, open the door.”

The poor man heard, and heard that some one was knocking and as he thought calling out: “My lord father, rise up, open the door;” but in his world life he had never had a son. The third time he heard clearly, “My lord father, rise up, open the door.”

The poor man did not take this as a joke. He rose up and opened the door. My lord’s son, who came in to him? No one else than the little hedgehog.

“God give a good evening to my lord father and to my mother as well,” said the hedgehog.

“God receive thee, my dear son. Hast thou come then?”

“I have indeed, as thou seest, my lord father; but I am very tired, therefore wake up my mother and let her make a bed for me in my chamber.”

What was the poor man to do? He woke up his wife; she made a towering bed, and the hedgehog lay in it. In the morning the poor man and his wife sat down to breakfast. They did not wish to forget their adopted son, but gave him food on a wooden plate under a bench by the fire. The hedgehog did not touch it. “Well, my son,” asked the poor man, “why not eat?”

“I do not eat, my lord father, because it is not proper to treat an adopted son like some orphan or another; therefore it beseems me not to eat all alone from a wooden plate under a bench at the fire. Seat me nicely at the table by thy side, put a tin plate before me, and place my food on it.”

What was the poor man to do? He seated the Hedgehog at his side, put a tin plate before him, and measured out food on it; then the Hedgehog ate with his father and mother. When they had finished breakfast the Hedgehog spoke thuswise: “Well, my lord father, hast thou a couple of thalers?”

“I have.”

“I suppose thou art keeping them to buy salt and wood with?”

“Yes, my son.”

“I speak not of that, I am speaking of this: lend me the money; I will return it a thousand-fold. Set not thy mind much on salt and wood now; but go, my lord father, to the market. In such and such a place an old woman has a black cock for sale; buy him of her. If she asks a small price, give her double; for that will be my steed. When thou hast bought the cock for two prices, in such and such a place is a saddler; go to him. In a corner of his shop is a cast-away, thrown-away, ragged, torn saddle; buy that for me, but give him two prices also. If he asks little, give him double.”

The poor man put on his coat, put the two thalers in his pocket, went to the market, bought the black cock and the cast-away, thrown-away saddle for two prices; each one for two small bits of money.

The Hedgehog then saddled the black cock with the cast-away, thrown-away saddle, sat upon him, and went to the court of the rich merchant whom he had led out of the great wild wood; he knocked at the door and called: “Hei, father-in-law, open the gate, let me in!”

The rich merchant opened the gate in great wonder. Who was coming? No one other than our Hedgehog, riding on a black cock.

“Hear me, rich merchant,” began the Hedgehog; “knowest thou thy promise? When I led thee out of the great wild wood, dost remember thy promise to give me the best of thy three daughters and three sacks of coin? Now I have come for the maid and the money.”

What could the rich merchant do? He called his three daughters into the white chamber, and turned to the Hedgehog, saying: “Well, choose among the three the one who pleases thy eye, thy mouth, and thy heart.”

The Hedgehog chose the second daughter, for she was the most beautiful of the three. The merchant then measured out three sacks of coin,—in the first, as he had said, there was gold, in the second silver, in the third copper; then he put his daughter and the three sacks of coin in a coach, to which four horses were attached, and he sent on her way his most beautiful daughter, with the Hedgehog. They travelled and journeyed till the Hedgehog, who was riding at the side of the coach on his black cock, came up, looked in through the window, and saw that the bride was in tears.

“Why dost thou cry, why dost thou weep, my heart’s beautiful love?” asked the Hedgehog of the maiden.

“Why should I not cry, why should I not weep, when God has punished me with such a nasty thing as thee?—for I know not whether thou art a man or a beast.”

“If this is thy only trouble, my heart’s beautiful love, we can easily cure it; I’ll keep the three sacks of coin for myself, and thee I’ll send back to thy father, for I see that of me thou art not worthy.”

Thus was it settled; the Hedgehog kept the three sacks of coin, but the merchant’s daughter he sent back to her father. The Hedgehog then took the coin to the poor man, who became so rich that I think another could not be found like him in seven villages.

Now the Hedgehog plucked up courage, saddled his black cock, sat on him, and rode away to the king, stood before him, and spoke in this fashion: “Dost thou remember, king, that when I brought thee out of the great wild wood, thou didst promise that if I would show the right road thou wouldst give me the most beautiful of thy three daughters and fill for me three coaches, the first with gold, the second with silver, and the third with copper coin? I am here so that thou mayest keep thy word.”

The king called his three daughters to the white chamber and said: “I made a promise, and this is it: to give one of my three daughters to this Hedgehog as wife; I promised because the Hedgehog led me out of a great wild wood, in which I wandered for five days without food or drink, and he saved me from certain death. Therefore say, my dear daughters, which of you will agree to marry the Hedgehog.”

The eldest daughter turned away, the second turned away also; but the youngest and fairest spoke thus: “If thou, my father the king, hast made such a promise, I will marry him. Let the will of God be done if he has appointed such a husband for me.”

“Thou art my dearest and best daughter,” said the king; and he kissed her again and again. Then the king measured out three coaches of coin, seated the princess in a chariot of gold and glass and started her on her journey, amid bitter tear-shedding, with the Hedgehog, who rode at the side of the chariot on his black cock. They travelled and journeyed across forty-nine kingdoms till the Hedgehog rode up to the chariot, opened the window, looked in, and saw that the princess was not weeping, but was in the best cheerful humor.

“Oh, my heart’s beautiful love,” said the princess, “why art thou riding on that black cock? Better come here and sit at my side on the velvet cushion.”

“Thou art not afraid of me?”

“I am not afraid.”

“Thou art not disgusted with me?”

“No; if God has given thee to me, then thou shouldst be mine.”

“Thou art my only and most beloved wife!” said the Hedgehog; and with that he shook himself, and straightway turned into such a pearl-given, charming, twenty-four-years-old king’s son that tongue could not tell,—golden-haired, golden-mouthed, golden-toothed. And the black cock shook himself three times, and became such a golden-haired magic steed that his equal would have to be sought for; the cast-away, thrown-away saddle became golden, everything on it was gold to the last buckle.

The king’s son then picked out the most beautiful place in the kingdom; standing in the middle of this he thought once, and suddenly that instant there stood before him a copper-roofed marble palace, turning on a cock’s foot, and in it every kind of the most varied and beautiful golden furniture,—everything and everything was of gold, beginning with the mirror-frame and ending with the cooking-spoon. The king’s son conducted the beautiful golden bird—the fair princess—into the pearl-given palace, where, like birds in a nest, they lived in quiet harmony. When the merchant’s three daughters and the two elder princesses heard of the happiness of the youngest princess,—how well she had married,—in their sorrow one of them jumped into a well, another drowned herself in a hemp-pond, and a third was drawn dead out of the river Tisza [Theiss]. In this way four of the maidens came to an evil end; but the second daughter of the merchant gritted her teeth venomously at the princess, and made a firm and merciless resolve that she would imbitter her life’s happiness. She went therefore to the palace, and found service in the guise of an old woman. She, the devil-given, came at a critical time; for the Burkus king[8] had declared war against the king’s son, and the princess, while her husband was in the field, was left to the care of the merchant’s daughter, disguised as an old woman. Milk might as well be confided to a cat as the princess to that cockroach of the underground kingdom. While the king’s son was gone, the Lord gave the princess two beautiful children. The old woman packed them into a basket, put them under a tree in the woods, then ran back to the princess, who, recovering from a faint into which she had fallen, asked the old woman to give her the children so that she might embrace and kiss them.

“High queen,” answered the old woman, “what is the use in delay or denial? They were two untimely, hairy monsters, and to save thee from terror at sight of them, I threw both into the river.”

The two children slept quietly under the tree till a white deer burst with great noise through the thicket, went straight as if sent, and taking the basket hung it on his antlers; then the white deer disappeared in the forest, went on till he came to the bank of a stream, where he called three times. The Forest Maiden appeared as if by magic, took the basket with great delight, and ran panting into her own palace.

The two children were seven years with the Forest Maiden, who reared them as carefully as if they had been her own.

Here, ’pon my soul, what came of the affair, or what did not, the Forest Maiden once sent the little girl with a green jug for water, and enjoined on her rigorously to be careful not to break the jug.

The little girl did not let this be said twice; she was obedient and attentive. She took the jug, and was at the well in a moment. When she came, she saw a little golden bird flying around the well. Being a child, she wanted to catch the golden bird, therefore ran around with the jug in her hand till at last she saw that only the handle was left. The little girl, terrified, burst into tears, sat at the edge of the well, and cried there. The Forest Maiden waited and waited; but she could not wait longer, therefore she sent the little brother with a second jug, and told him sternly to be careful not to break the jug. The little brother went in the same way, for he also, like children of that age, barely saw the golden bird when he wanted to strike it with the jug, which he whirled around till only the handle remained in his hand; then he burst into tears, sat by his sister, and there the two were crying at the edge of the well.

Here, ’pon my soul, the golden bird pitied the children, and asked: “Why do ye cry? Why do ye weep, pretty children?”

“Oh, pretty bird,” answered the boy, who had more sense than his sister, “why should we not cry? Why should we not weep? We shall be flogged for breaking the green jugs; our dear mother will whip us.”

“Oh, my children, she is not your own mother! She is only your foster-mother. Your father and mother live far from here,—beyond those green mountains; so if ye will follow, I’ll lead you home.”

The two children wanted nothing else. They went back no more to their foster-mother, for they would be flogged; but they followed the golden bird, which went always before them. And they travelled and journeyed till once in a forest they came upon a great heap of gold; near the gold was a number of dice, as if some one had been playing there. The little boy and girl each took a handful of gold, and went farther. They travelled and journeyed till they came to an inn; since they were wearied, and it was evening, they went in to ask lodging. In the inn three lords were playing dice; the two children at first merely noticed that they were playing. At last the boy took from his pocket the handful of gold, and began to play in such fashion that he won all the money of the three lords; and then one of them spoke thuswise:—

“Well, my dear son, I see that thou hast good luck. I have in a certain place a charming flower-garden; in the middle of the garden is a marble palace, and the palace has this peculiarity,—if it is struck on the side three times with this golden rod, it will turn into a golden apple; and thou mayest put down the marble palace and the flower-garden in any part of the world if thou wilt strike the golden apple with the small end of the golden rod. I will bet now this flower-garden and this marble palace; if thou canst win, they’ll be thine.”

The little boy agreed; and he won fortunately the flower-garden and the marble palace. The other then gave him the golden rod, and showed him where the garden and the palace were. Next morning the children sought out the garden and the palace, which the boy struck three times on the side, and it turned to a golden apple; he put the apple in his pocket, and strolled on homeward. The little golden bird flew always ahead of them. They travelled and journeyed till one time the golden bird stopped and said:—

“Well, dear children, now we are at home; put down the golden apple on this spot and strike it three times with the rod, and ye will see what a beautiful marble palace and flowery garden there will be, speaking to the seven kingdoms. The report of the palace and garden will circulate immediately, and the king himself will come to look at them. Him ye must honor as your father, for thou my little boy art the king’s son, and thou my little girl the king’s daughter. Dear children, here in a golden frame is a picture which gives your arms and name. Hang in the palace this picture, in the best place; but lest it be seen, cover it with velvet, and show it to no man save your own father. When he asks what that picture is, draw the velvet from it, and the rest will follow.”

So it happened; the two children hung up the picture in the best room of the marble palace, and covered it with velvet. Now, the report ran to distant parts of the kingdom that there was a charming and wonderful marble palace in such and such a place, and people hastened from the seventh province distant to look at it; so that the report came to the ears of the king himself. The king decided straightway to look at the flowery garden and marble palace; but he had hardly conceived the idea when the old woman gave him a drug. The king fell ill, and could not see the flowery garden and marble palace; and then the old woman, without invitation, stood before the king and said: “High king, if thou art so curious to see this flowery garden and marble palace, then I will go and see if they are as beautiful as report says, and tell the story to thy Highness.”

The king in one way or another agreed, and the old woman went, not to see the garden, but to bring the two children to evil destruction; the wicked creature tried but succeeded not, for her weapons broke. Not to confound one word with another, I will tell the whole tale in order and accuracy.

The old witch had barely reached the famous flower-garden when the two children hurried before her and showed everything from root to top, and the old piece of leather began to talk thus: “It is true that the garden is beautiful, but it would be seven times more beautiful if ye would bring the world-sounding tree.”

“What must be done to get that?” asked the little boy.

“Not other than this,” answered the old skeleton: “In such and such a place, in an enchanted palace, is the world-sounding tree; but ye must go for it and bring it.”

With that the old witch took farewell of the two children, and strolled home; but the boy had no peace from that hour. He wanted to go and bring the world-sounding tree; therefore taking farewell of his sister with bitter tear-shedding he set out for the tree. He was going and travelling across forty-nine kingdoms till he came to a dark castle; this was the first enchanted castle. A big, lame, hairy devil stood there on guard with a fearful whip, so that no man might enter. The hairy devil shouted very angrily at our boy: “Stop! Who is there?”

“I,” answered the little boy.

“Who is ‘I’?”

“I.”

“Art thou Yanoshka?” asked the devil.

“I am.”

“What journey art thou on?”

“I am looking for the world-beautifully sounding tree. Hast thou not heard of it, my lord elder brother?”

“I have not heard of it; but in such and such a place my brother stands guard, and if he has not heard of it, then no one in the world has.”

Yanoshka went forward on the right road in search of the world-sounding tree. He travelled and journeyed till he came to another enchanted dark castle; there a big, lame, hairy devil was standing on guard who shouted to our Yanoshka in great anger. Our Yanoshka was much braver now, for he knew he had nothing to fear.

“Who is it?” called out the devil.

“I.”

“Art thou Yanoshka?”

“I am, at the service of my lord elder brother.”

“Why art thou journeying here in this strange land, where even a bird does not go?”

“I am looking for the world-beautifully sounding tree. Hast thou not heard of it, my lord elder brother?”

“What is the use in delay or denial? I have not heard; but in such and such a place my eldest brother is on guard, and if he knows nothing of it, then no one in the world knows.”

With this Yanoshka moved on towards the third enchanted castle; when he came, there was a big, lame, hairy devil on guard, who called out in great anger to Yanoshka: “Who is that?”

“I.”

“Thou art Yanoshka?”

“I am.”

“Why art thou journeying here in this strange land, where even a bird does not go?”

“I am looking for the world-beautifully sounding tree. Hast thou not heard of it, my lord elder brother?”

“Ho, ho, Yanoshka! of course I have; it is here in the garden of this enchanted palace. Thou mayest take it, but only if thou obey my words. If thou dost not value them or dost not observe them, thou wilt never see God’s bright sky or the shining day again. I only want to say this: Here is a golden rod; strike the wall of the enchanted castle with it three times. Straightway a door will open before thee. In the very middle of the garden thou wilt find the world-beautifully sounding tree. Go around it three times and then hurry like a shot arrow, with the speed of a dog, or the stone wall will close, and thou wilt remain inside; and if thou art once shut in, God have mercy and pity on thee, for that instant thou wilt be turned to stone. This is my word and speech; if thou cling to it, thou wilt be lucky; if not, thou wilt be wretched forever.”

The boy took the golden rod and struck the side of the enchanted castle with it. That instant the door opened before him. The king’s son did not inquire much whether he might enter or not; in a moment he ran in through the door and straight to the garden. Every kind of singing and dancing maidens came to meet him,—some with citharas and harps; some played on cymbals and begged him to play and dance with them; some offered rich food and drink of every kind agreeable to the taste. But the king’s son had no mind to eat or drink; he pushed aside the maidens and ran to the very centre of the garden, where the world-beautifully sounding tree was; then he went around it three times, turning toward the point whence he had come. That done he rushed from the garden, and a thousand times lucky was he. It was not the same for him to be a few minutes later, for the door closed and bit off the heel of his boot; but he did not care much about the heel of his boot. He ran home on the same road over which he had come; and when he arrived, the world-beautifully sounding tree was in the middle of the flowery garden. Hitherto the flowery garden had been in good fame, but now the fame was seven times greater, so that people came from seven worlds to look at the tree; and the report of it reached the king himself, who determined in his mind if he had not seen it yet he would now at least go to see it.

As soon as the old witch divined his thought she put a powder in his coffee so that he became sick, and was not able to leave the room; then she stood before him without invitation, and said: “High king, as thy Highness is sick, I will go to see if the world-sounding tree is as beautiful as reported, and will soon bring back word.”

The king in one way or another agreed to the old witch’s proposal, and let her go to see the world-beautifully sounding tree. She had barely put foot in the flowery garden when the two children ran out to her to hear what the old woman would say this time.

“Beautiful children,” said she, “beautiful is the garden of itself, beautiful is the sounding tree, but still seven times more beautiful would it be if the world-sweetly speaking bird were to sing upon it.”

“What must I do?” asked the little boy.

“Nothing else,” answered the old witch, “than this: In such and such a place is an enchanted castle, and thence it would be necessary to bring the world-sweetly speaking bird.”

Then she went back; and from that hour the king’s son could not remain at home, but planned to go for the world-sweetly speaking bird. Therefore, parting with his sister amidst bitter tear-shedding, he started through the kingdom and the world to bring home the sweetly speaking bird; but he enjoined on his sister that if the third day he were not at home, she should set out to seek him over a certain road,—and with that the king’s son went his way.

He journeyed and travelled across forty-nine kingdoms to the first enchanted castle, where there stood on guard a big hairy devil, who had a terribly large whip in his hand, to kill, without pity or mercy, every man going up or down. Now, the hairy devil attacked Yanoshka sharply and roughly, thus:—

“Who art thou?”

“I, my lord elder brother.”

“Who art thou?” asked the devil again.

“I.”

“Art thou Yanoshka?”

“I am.”

“Why art thou here in this strange land, where even a bird does not go?”

“I am going for the world-sweetly speaking bird. Hast thou heard of it, my lord elder brother?”

“What is the use in delay or denial? I have not indeed heard. But over there lives my elder brother; if he knows nothing of it, then no one in the world knows.”

Now the king’s son came to the second enchanted castle; the second devil sent him to his eldest brother, the big lame devil.

When Yanoshka came to the third castle, the devil asked, “Why art thou here in this strange land, where even a bird does not go?”

“I am looking for the world-sweetly speaking bird. Hast thou not heard of it, lord elder brother, in thy world-beautiful life?”

“Of course I have; it is here in this enchanted castle. Thou mayest take it away if thou wilt listen to my word; if not, better thou hadst never been born. For if thou wilt not observe my words, thou wilt never see God’s bright sun again. I only wish to say: Here is a golden rod; take it, and with it strike the wall of the enchanted castle three times. Straightway the door will open before thee; pass in, run to the end of the glass corridor and across eight chambers. In the ninth chamber is the world-sweetly speaking bird in a rusty cage. Thou wilt find there every kind of beautiful and more beautiful golden birds, but look not at them, listen not to them, take no one of them, but take the sweetly speaking bird sitting sadly in the rusty cage. Snatch the cage in an instant, and rush from the enchanted castle as if thou hadst been shot from a cannon.”